


At First I Hated You, Don't Leave Me

by heavymetalqueen26



Series: Baggins AU's [2]
Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Crack Pairings, Dwaggins, Dwalin is one of my favorites, Fluff, I REGRET NOTHING, Inspired by Fanfiction, M/M, Soulmates, nothing at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-01
Updated: 2013-03-01
Packaged: 2017-12-04 01:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavymetalqueen26/pseuds/heavymetalqueen26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwalin had never expected his soul-mate to be a fussy hobbit, but he's not complaining in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At First I Hated You, Don't Leave Me

**Author's Note:**

> I am a shameless crack shipper, I'm not sorry about this.

The forest they were in was warm and alive, no creatures bigger then a rabbit running around. The air was clean and fresh, the ground dry and cool. The placid chirps of birds and crickets rang out like a lullaby. The camp's fire was strong and bright, and their food plentiful. It made no sense to the company that Dwalin would be in such an awful mood, even after the event that happened before hand.

Dwalin sat by the fire, his face twisted into a frightful snarl. His eyes dark with anger and his shoulders taught. His muscles were clenched up with tension, as if he was taking a on hoard of orcs by himself. He sharpened his battle-ax with such ferocity that the metal might snap, his motions anything but relaxed and precise. He muttered darkly under his breath in Khuzdul, his eyes would dart around at the company almost challenging them.

Even Fili and Kili hadn't even tried to provoke the hardened warrior. They all too happily stayed on the other side of camp, hanging close to their uncle. And even Thorin didn't approach his old friend, knowing full well the problems that the warrior faced.

There was only a few people who could really approach him, one of which was his brother Balin. With a raised eye brow Balin just watched his younger brother. He would let out a small chuckle every time Dwalin let out a vicious snarl at their companions. Happily smoking on his pipe he watched his brother with a knowing look in his eye. He knew that he shouldn't be having as much fun as he was with his brothers situation, but he knew that there was little he could do to help his brother's anxiety.

The cause for Dwalin's anxiety was none other then Mr. Bilbo Baggins, who sat a few inches away from the larger dwarf. Bilbo had only been sitting with Balin, having a nice talk about maps when Dwalin came storming up with a down right nasty look on his face. Bilbo had let out a small whimper and had tried to leave the log, but Balin simply put a hand on his shoulder and shock his balding head. So, here Bilbo was, sitting next to Dwalin trying not to hyperventilate. He wasn't having much success, he blamed it on his nervousness.

Balin let out a small sigh when he watched his younger brother rubbed a hand over his right bicep. Really it wasn't the warriors fault, Balin mussed, it was the emerald tattoo that was to blame. Every dwarf had a tattoo on their right bicep that would appear when a dwarf came of age, they varied in color and style of writing. The tattoo was in Khuzdul, and to any outsider it looked like just a simple mark of passage, but really it was the name of their soul-mate. The color always seemed to match their soul-mates personality, and the style of the writing matched their “voice”. And it was well known that no dwarf, female or male, could resist the call of their soul-mate.

Which was Dwalin's current problem. He, a trained warrior who had completely mastered and had control over his body, couldn't resist the natural call of the gift that was given by Mahal. The gift of knowing who their other half, or who their “one" was, and the longing for them, for Dwalin it was a cures. Slowing his frantic movement's he began to think of when this madness of his mind started.

* * *

 

It began as simply as the first lines of poetry. The dwarrows had began their quest, heading to the Shire. Heading out to where their burglar was, the one that Gandalf would not help them till they had. Of course the sodding wizard would have them take a burglar in the complete opposite direction of their home. Dwalin snorted as he remembered the instructions the crazed wizard had given the company of Thorin, “Go to Bag End, he says. It will be a green door with a glowing mark. Bloody wizard can't just give us a sodding map.”

A few hobbits, who had been out on a nightly stroll, flinched away from him and his dark muttering. Dwalin just gave them a dark glare and continued on his way with a readjustment of his axes. He had nothing against hobbits, really he would have loved to have had the same life as they did. But fate had not been kind to his race and he had suffered threw many wars and battles. It would have been nice live in a place like the Shire. Even if he would have been a lot softer and the whole huge-hairy-feet thing didn't really appeal to him, but it would have been nice to have nights where one didn't go hungry.

Walking down the interwoven roads Dwalin let his mind return to the true reason he had agreed to this mad quest. Yes, he did partly agree because of his duty to his king. And yes, he did also partly agree because he couldn't let his brother go on said quest alone. But the true reason was because of the tattoo on his right bicep.

Balin's tattoo had faded during the loss of Erebor. It had been a strong brown, dark and strong like the mountain its self, the letters were written with a bold design with light interwoven boarder. Balin had lost his beloved in the fall of Erebor, only the faded ink remained as a reminder. His brother, his elder brother who had never cried since the birth of his younger brother, mourned with tears and starvation. Dwalin had stood by his brother and helped him continue on, his brother still cried at night and ate only enough to keep himself alive.

Dwalin paused to frantically rip his jacket sleeve of his right arm. It was his worst fear; he was afraid to wake up one morning and find the mark faded. To find that his one had left this world, had left Dwalin alone to suffer like his brother.

Relief flooded him when he saw the bright emerald stand out boldly against his skin. He knew that his other half would be full of life, strong willed as nature, and sweet as the smell of dew grass. The script was written in a font that showed that his soul-mate would have a kind voice with a hard edge. His tattoo was the true reason why he was on this quest, his other half was out there, maybe starving and wishing for a home. His natural instincts demanded that he reclaim the safety that their people once knew, if only so his other half could remain safe.

Finally, after scaring five other hobbits and three goats latter, he reached the top of the Shire to the glowing marker. It looked like a nice place to live, small but comfortable. The green door was almost as pleasant to look at as his own tattoos. Dwalin almost snorted at that, it sounded like some sort of foreshadowing from a book.

With a hard knock he waited for the door to be answered, it didn't sound like there was much movement going on inside. Maybe their burglar was asleep. After waiting a few seconds Dwalin rang the door bell, letting his patients slip. The sound rang out threw the quite air, scaring off a cat that was hiding in the wood pile next to the underground house.

Finally the door flew open reviling a tiny little thing, his eyes were the same bright emerald green of Dwalin's tattoo. The curly little honey brown hair bounced and kissed the little flat elfish ears. If Dwalin was a lesser dwarf he would have gasped at the cute little thing, but he was not that kind of dwarf, he was a strong willed warrior. So, with a straightening of his posture and a small bow he let his gruff voice ring out threw the stilled night air, “Dwalin, at your service.”

The little thing quickly drew its strange coat of a bathrobe closer to the tiny body, Balin had said something about the importance of bathrobes once, he wasn't really paying attention. With an exasperated face the little thing spoke, with a voice that made his toes curl in comfort, “Bilbo Baggins, at yours.”

Shock ran threw Dwalin, his one was a hobbit. It was uncommon for dwarrows ones to be outside of their spieces, it was one of the worst fates to ever befall a dwarf. Death was a much better option then being rejected by your other half, the one being you were made for. It wasn't unusual for dwarrows to take their own lives after being rejected by their ones, most just starved or withered away.

After the shock took hold of his being he just ran on autopilot. Mahal had a twisted sense of humor. He walked in the home his little soul-mate following close behind, obviously confused. Dwalin sent a hateful thoughts to Gandalf, it was the damned wizard's fault he was in this mess. A strong flow of rage flowed there him accompanied by protectiveness, did the wizard not tell his other half what they were going to do?

With a head full of confused thoughts Dwalin demanded food, food always helped. With the help of his other half he was lead to one of the best meals of his life, but it did little to settle the swirling thought in his head. But even if the little thing could cook, that didn't make the circumstances anymore appealing. His other half was not even of his own species, he didn't even want to think about how the little lad would survive the quest.

The lad obviously had a good home, never knew the true meaning of suffering, and didn't know what it meant to go hungry. For some reason he felt a small amount of hate rip threw his heart, he knew that the little hobbit had no business being on their quest, none at all. His stubborn pride began to feed the dark part of his mind, he felt vile bubble up from the pit of his stomach. Selfish spite began to form in him, it wasn't fair that he and his people had to suffer, while his other half enjoyed the true comforts of home.

His thoughts were disturbed by a knocking on the door, “That would be the door.” His gruff voice startled the hobbit more then the little thing already was. He promptly ignored the stab of guilt in his heart, pushing it away with his wounded pride.

He knew his feeling were fabrications formed by held back bitterness and self loathing. He was doing little to stop it. He tried to form actual logic around his feeling by thinking of the “true” reason his one had survived the fall of Erebor. His one wasn't hearty or strong, his other half had simply been “lucky”. This whole quest was enough to make him want a drink, or six. With an upward curl of his lip he got up in search off ale and more food, he was looking for more then enough to make him forget his current problem.

As he rummaged around the pantry he was brought out of his abbess of dark thoughts by the pleasant voice of his kin, “Brother!” Balin walked over with such affection and joy in his posture, it made Dwalin radiate with warmth.

“You've gotten wider and shorter since I've seen ya' last.” He greeted his older brother good heart-idly. He was fiercely protective of his brother, if he could he would have soothed the heart ache of the older dwarf's pain. But he knew nothing in the world or the next could sooth the pain of a broken soul.

“Wider, not shorter.” Balin answered back with just as much affection. Before they locked forearms and butted their heads in greeting.

Dwalin saw his little hobbit flinch out of the corner of his eye. With a dark turn of thoughts he noted how the hobbit didn't even know the proper greetings of kin. And his mood wasn't helped by the knowing look on his brothers face, if Dwalin was a lesser dwarf his brother would be lacking a beard.

Fortunately his brother didn't bring up the subject, but tried to keep Dwalin in good spirits. Distracting him with conversations on food, and diverting him away form his madness when his hobbit apologized to them. Dwalin just about threw the lad over his shoulders and carried him away from the madness that was to fallow. He beat down the protectiveness with his now broken and bleeding pride.

He let out a silent thank you when the hobbit was distracted by another knocking on the door. He really just wanted to bash some orc skulls in and get on with his life, but apparently life had another plan. Apparently his misgivings about who his soul-mate did little to stop the wrath-fullness that he felt when Fili and Kili eyed his one like a piece of meat.

If it wasn't for his brother's calming hand on his shoulder he would have barreled right into Kili as the young prince made the hobbit cry out in distress. With a knowing nod his brother mentioned that they were going to need a bigger table, Dwalin decided he could work with that. Calling out to the younger prince he kept his voice void of the anger and hate he felt, “Come give us a hand lad, were going to need a bigger table if everyone is going to fit.”

He didn't know how to feel when his other half gave out a startled question of is there more of you, but his dwarfish pride decided to settled on anger.

Bofur hadn't helped the situation when he had made the hobbit faint. The miner was lucky that Balin had acted as fast as his brother did, or else they would be short one member or three. He just settled for snarling, which the company took as he was displeased with their burglar. Which he was, but it was more distributed to Malah, who had gave him such an unwanted fate crueler then death.

From their it just seemed to get worse; they had no allies, limited supplies, and their king couldn't tell which way the mountain was if it was labeled on the ground. He didn't sleep that night, his head and emotions in turmoil. Fate was obviously out to get him when the company set out that morning, along with a surprise from his one.

The determination that his one had shown by chasing after them the next morning had brought mixed feelings in him. He was torn between pride that the lad had the courage to come after them, and the stubborn hate and loathing that settled in his stomach. With a scoff he turned his body partly around, not really ready to face the hellish situation.

Still the look of utter pride and joy on his hobbit's face, made warmth flood his chest. It was almost sweet how the lad was willing to come with them, even knowing the dangers that they would be facing. And the look of displeasure that crossed the hobbit's expression when the horse snorted in the hobbit's face was cute too, Balin just shot him a knowing look. Dwalin brushed it of with a glare, a real dwarf could be a warrior and think that things were cute.

The hobbit, Bilbo Baggins, his other half stayed close to Gandalf for the first couple of days. Only talking to a select few, his brother and Bofur included, Dwalin felt a small twang of jealously curl around in his chest. It was a social and natural norm for dwarrows to hide their one away form the prying eyes of others. Some would even hide their ones away and kill any who tried to come close.

He took comfort in his brother, who rode next to him and offered some conversation. Even if it wasn't something he wanted to talk about for the next decade. “You know the lad's not bad, he has had just as much heart ache as us.”

Dwalin grunted, trying to show how he really didn't want to talk about it. His fist gripped the reins a little harder as he heard the laugh of his hobbit ring out. He felt disgust at him self, calling the hobbit his, for all he knew the lad could be married and his spouse was out the night they had invaded the lad's home. The hobbit and his spouse could have talked that morning, or Bilbo could have left a note. And Dwalin's natural behavior and norm for his culture would demand the death of his one's spouse, regardless of how Bilbo felt about it.

It felt strange to refer to the hobbit as Bilbo, Dwalin's instincts wanted to call the hobbit something more... intimate. He had read the ruins with such fondness and care, he had added all sorts of terms of affection to the tattoo in scribe ink. He had thought of a thousand things to call his other half, it was completely normal for dwarfs to think of little but their soul-mate. His whole reason for becoming a warrior had been for his soul-mate, he had wanted to be the one who his other half could rely on in hard times. He had wanted to be the one who could look after them both, he had wanted to the be the one that was as smart as he was deadly. He would have been the half who's vicious temper would be easily quelled by his one's affection and reason. He had been so dead set on getting ready to protect his one's dreams, that he forgot to look after his own.

“He lost his mother to wolves and his father to heart sickness soon after. The lad's lived alone since he was but a tween.” Balin apparently wasn't going to give up on the topic. But it did offer Dwalin a strange sort of comfort, his one was with out a spouse, but so... alone in this world.

Dwalin and Balin had known what it was like to grow up with no parents to aid you in the harsh struggles of life. They had lost their mother to war, and their father fell from heart sickness right after. But that was where the line was drawn, they had had each other to rely on, Bilbo had been alone.

Suddenly a viscous protectiveness, ancient as time its self, flooded Dwalin. His instincts were screaming at him to turn around, drag his one to his chest and envelop the smaller body in a protective grasp. He felt the ancient call to draw his battle-axes and attack anyone near the hobbit, his instincts shouting that no one was to be trusted with his one. He felt the need to woe his one, he had felt the hot coursing desire to kiss his one lovingly on the forehead. He felt the need to run his nose along the soft bare neck of his hobbit's throat. He felt the recurring need to rip of the beards of his companions and behead his kin. A voice screamed from his soul that every one was going to take his one away from him.

He felt his body tense up with fear. To lose you one to another, it was another fate that was worse then death. To know that your one was happy with another, it was the fate that all dwarrows committed suicide after it was cast upon them. It was the reason most would become so fiercely possessive over their other half, it was the reason that they would hide their one away from others. There were many of their kind who could not resist the urge to attack what they viewed as competition for their one, many would try to kill their own kin.

He was about to turn around and do just that when his brother stopped him by setting a hand on his arm and giving him a disapproving look. Dwalin felt his face twist into a rueful glare, but his brother answered back with a smooth voice, “You have nothing to fear brother, I will help you, but you can't be going around killing our compatriots.”

“Right.” Dwalin grumbled, gathering hold of what was left of his self control. He was glad he could help put off the call for a bit, his pride was still injured. He would accept that Bilbo was his one, but he wasn't going to like it, or so he had thought.

It had began to fester at a much faster rate as soon as Fili came hurtling thew the woods shouting about how trolls had Bilbo. Dwalin had knocked the lad over in his maddening haste, he ran as fast as his legs could take him. He cared little for how the forest brush would scrape and burn his skin, he only cared for the safety of his hobbit. He felt something in his chest break at the thought of losing his one in such a way. He heard the shout of his brother for him to slow down, he decided it was best to ignore his older brother this time.

The company had burst threw the brush just as Kili had caught the small hobbit. Dwalin wasted no time flinging hims self at the closest troll with a harsh battle cry. Instincts over ran the ability to think, he was driven by the madness to rip out the hearts of the ones who hurt what was his. Even the disturbance of the ponies running past him did little to disturb his focus, it wasn't until the startled cry that rang out of Bilbo, did he began to come back to reality.

The filthy trolls had his one in their vile grip, holding his one by his limbs. Dwalin let out a broken cry when they demanded the company to lower their weapons or they would RIP OFF Bilbo's limbs. He was ably to make eye contact with his little hobbit, before the small lad turned his head way, ready to sacrifice his life for the victory of the company. It was what any true dwarf would have done. The feeling of pride and worry that flood Dwalin was almost too much. He threw down his weapon the same time Thorin did, he only regretted not being able to protect his hobbit.

And being tied up over a fire did little to help his toiling emotions. He had finally come to terms about who his one was, and he was going to be eaten, Mahal must have really hated him for something he did in a past life. And his one was trying to negotiate with the filthy trolls, Bofur was not gaining any good points right now, he noted in jealousy. Dwalin began to join in with the shouts, angry with the company for turning on his one, his lad was smarter then the whole lot combined he snarled viciously. Finally their king realized what their burglar was doing and kicked the group into gear, literally.

The “debate” was starting to head south when the wizard finally appeared with a powerful shout, “May the dawn take you all!”

After he had been set free Dwalin wasted no time in searching over his hobbit for injuries. He was more then happy to use the excuse that Oin was busy, which the hard of hearing dwarf was. Dwalin had felt a not so subtle stab at his heart when Bilbo flinched away from his hands. He felt his knees weaken, a sickening feeling flooded him. His one, his reason for even being born, was afraid of him.

He quickly handed his hobbit's care over to his brother, using the excuse to fallow his king as an escape rout. The stench of the trolls cave did little to calm the roiling guilt and self hatred that floored him. That had been the only time that he truly wished that he had perished at the battle to try to reclaim the mines of Moria. At lest then he wouldn't have to witness his one being afraid of his very breath.

No amount of relief came when another crazed wizard showed up, too bad that also didn't last long. He would have taken dealing with crazy wizard to what came next. Being chased by wargs and orcs. During the chase he had tried to keep Bilbo within his sight and safe, he had lost his head again and snapped at the warg when it came too close to Bilbo for his liking, and gave away their position. But they had made it to Rivendell alive, bloody wizard planed the whole thing.

Dwalin by no means liked elves, but the safety had given him and his brother some time to talk about Dwalin's current situation. With nothing short of a miracle, Balin and him had found a secluded little corner to talk in. Dwalin rested against a tree, caring for his axes. The menial task had always given him something to help focus his hands, and still his waring mind. Balin sat not too far away, enjoying a smoke on a while marbled bench. The white haired dwarf puffed away, leafing threw a book of dwarfish text.

“Ya' done little to still the lad's mind brother,” Balin's calm voice rang out, void of accusing tones. His brother had only been speaking the truth. Gently closing the book, Balin continued on, “He thinks that ya' hate him, because he is a soft hobbit, unknowing of the world. He doesn't know, brother, he doesn't know that you have only grievances with your self.”

“And what would ya have me do brother? He is not bound to me like I am him, he could easily have another, one who he isn't afraid of. One who is of his own kind.” Dwalin had spoken with such bitterness, but his hands never stalling on their task. He could feel Balin's knowing gaze run over him, taking in his defeated posture.

“Hobbits only marry one being, the will marry for nothing less then love. And nothing, not even death, can shatter that pure love. If one does lose their spouse, and if they survive the heart sickness, then they live alone for the rest of their life. It sounds awfully familiar, doesn't it brother?”

Dwalin didn't fight off the foolish hope that had erupted in his being. It may not have been the same story, but it was close enough to give him hope. His hands stilled, his eyes, dark with unspoken questions, met his brother's gaze.

Balin made a small chuckle, “Brother, I would be more then happy to help ya' with this. But you must be patient, hobbits are shy and simple creatures. And our burglar is no different.”

“Bilbo is not some petty hobbit, he is precious fallen star.”

His brother nearly fell off the bench in his marry laughter, Dwalin felt his face heat up with embarrassment, he was getting too old for this. He still went back to his ancient teachings of poetry and books from when he was but a mere lad. From when he had flourished his tattoo of Bilbo's name with names of affection and love. Scrubbing a hand over his face, Dwalin added in a stern voice that countered his red face, “Don't you dare tell him I said that.”

Balin just laughed harder at his brother's shame, it was quit normal for dwarrows to laps back into such things. He had lavished his one with only the finest things he had owned and tittles he had spent weeks slaving over, but there was no title that could accurately describe the perfection of his one. Nothing ever will.

“I wont tell the lad, but brother, don't make the same mistake I did. Don't leave the lad, ya'll be all he has left.”

The joy of the moment completely gone, Dwalin nodded. Neither of them had forgotten the pain that still flowed freshly in his brother. Carefully putting back his axes back where they rested, he made his way over to claps his brother in a strong hold. Dwalin rested his head on the forehead of his brother, their foreheads touched in the way of a comforting gesture of kin. With somber voice leveled by pure will, he spoke, “Thank you brother, I promise I will not fail either of you.”

It had seemed that fate was finally smiling upon Dwalin, that was till he had a fight with Thorin about the usefulness of their burglar. He had been sent to the middle of the group for bad behavior, it was enough to make him roll his eyes at the maturity of his king. It did little to steal his body and mind when he had almost lost his one to the stone giants and then to the goblin's cave. He still regretted the bitter words he had spoken in his heart ache, especially when his other half vowed to help them regained their home.

But the worst had come and gone when Arzog ambushed the company, Thorin had been immobilized and he was unable to do his sworn duty. He had been unable to reach his king when his king needed him the most. He screamed cries of anguish, he could do nothing, they had failed. They would never see their homeland, he would never know the true joys of showing Bilbo their home.

But, Bilbo, his ever pleasantly surprising one, had barreled into Thorin's executioner. Effectively giving the company the time they needed to counter attack the orcs, and the eagles enough time to rescue them.

Dwalin felt pride like no other flourish, his one was acting more dwarf-like then some of the finest dwarrows Dwalin had ever known. He felt pride as he watched his Bilbo swing at the enemy, it needed to be refined, but his lad had talent. It was showing that his Bilbo was better then the one he had thought up when he was but a dwarfling.

The flight had been uncomfortable, he was worried sick about his leader. Thorin had scarcely moved since his fall in battle, Dwalin had no illusion that they would be unable to continue without their king.

When the eagles had finally put the company down after hours of flying, he felt fear like had hadn't known in a long time. He had felt the same fear when they had lost Erebor. It was so unbearable, to sit and watch as the wizard muttered something under his breath. But the relief, that came as soon as their king opened his eyes, came like a flood. He felt unshead tears burn his eyes, they still had hope, they could continue on with their quest.

The relief was short lived as soon as his king demanded for his Bilbo, Dwalin nearly lunged at his king in blinding rage. His brain over run with red hot anger, Balin pulled Dwalin back fast and sternly.

“You! What were you doing? You nearly got you self killed! Did I not say that you were a burden, that you would would not survive in the wild?”

Dwalin's rage built with every flinch and look of uncertainty that his hobbit made because of the cold hateful voice of his king. He was comforted little by the company, who sat idly while one of their own was being treated cruelly.

“That you had no place amoungst us?” Thorin paused in his cruel words, and spook with a voice of a dwarf greeting a long lost shield-brother, “I am sorry that I had ever doubted you.”

When his king, Thorin, king under the mountain, gave Bilbo a gesture that was only meant for battle-kin and shield-brothers. Dwalin gave a broken exhale threw his nose, his one had received the right that only the finest dwarven warriors were given. The right to be the king's shield-brother, he was over run with pride, only the most loyal and bravest of dwarrows would receive such an honor.

Dwalin gave a hearty laugh at his one's modest response, his Bilbo was just too perfect for his own good. If it wasn't for the presence of the company, he would have told Bilbo that he was more then what he said he wasn't. His Bilbo, after all, was the finest creature to ever walk this earth. He wouldn't dare say that, his brother still hadn't let him forget the falling star thing.

Gandalf had said that they were only a few days trip form a friend who lived near by, who might offer them rest and a restock of supplies. The company had been incredibly grateful that Bumber had kept his pack, the one that had their cooking supplies. It was a good sign, it also meant that they didn't have to eat “green” food.

His brother had been true to his word, Bilbo was acting less afraid of him. Bilbo had walked beside him while they slowly left the rock, sometimes Bilbo would reach for his arm to steady the poor hobbit. It was a blissful feeling to know that his one did need him. The lad had even taken the his portion of their dinner that night. And by law of their kin, that mean that Bilbo had excepted his proposal. That meant to the whole company that Bilbo was now officially Dwalin's. Dwarrows were just as possessive over their food as hobbits were after all.

Near the end of the second day to this mysterious friend's home, things took a sour turn for the worst. Balin had been walking with Dwalin upfront, the two talking about the best way to comfort Bilbo about his acceptance as Dwalin's soul-mate. Thorin would add in every now and again, saying that he should just “dwarf up” and tell their hobbit. Balin had insisted that he should go about this tactfully. He thought it would be best to listen to his brother when it came to the matters of his Bilbo.

Bilbo had been a little bit behind them walking with Bofur. The hobbit would have been with Fili and Kili, but the two had gone a head to hunt for food. He would look back every once-in-a-while to check on his hobbit, trusting Bofur not to try to steal his one way. It had been a mistake, an awful mistake.

Bofur and Bilbo were whispering something quietly, he had brushed it off with a lot of self control. He had been listening to his brother speak about how hobbits court. “Ya' see brother, they give each other something called a love spoon, it's very important. Love spoons are given to the one that they wed, but flowers are given to the one that they wi-”

Balin had been cut of by his own gasp, his brother's mouth flopped open and the elder's face turned pale. His brother had quickly tried to continue on with his sentence, but kept looking back at the rest of the company.

Dwalin knew something had been wrong, so he looked back to see what was the matter. He really wished he didn't.

Bofur's and Bilbo's foreheads were touching their left hands clasped over the other's bicep. Bofur was wearing a grin, and Bilbo looked flustered. Bofur spook with a calm and steady voice, “And that, my dear Baggins, is what we dwarrows like to call a kiss.”

Dwalin didn't remember hurtling his body the distance between him and Bofur, but he did remember the crack that sounded out when his fist met the other dwarf's cheek. Everything that fallowed was a blur. He remembered Thorin, Balin, and Bilbo trying to pull him off of the hatted dwarf, he remembered how he had tried to snap Bofur's neck. He also remembered the cry of Bilbo begging him to stop, “Dwalin! Dwalin please! Stop! Dwalin stop!”

It was his little hobbit's crying that snapped him out of his hazed state. Gandalf had given Thorin a knowing look and pointed out to a crop of rocks. Thorin acted quickly, telling Oin to take care of Bofur, and dragged Dwalin off. Dwalin had let out a harsh sting of Khuzdul as he was dragged away. He had struggled against his king's grip, arguing that Bofur wasn't to be trusted with Bilbo alone. Thorin didn't stop till they were a good ways out of earshot of the company.

With a harsh shove Dwalin ended up against a tree, Thorin hovering over him with a stern disapproving look. After he had stopped sputtering angry curses did Thorin speak, with voice harder then his king's face. “What do you think you are doing? Attacking one of our company because of blind jealousy! Are not a dwarf warrior, do you have no honor? Do you not trust your one, do you think that the hobbit will leave you so easily?”

Dwalin didn't get to even open his mouth before his king continued on, “Do you realize that what you did could have driven the hobbit way? No, of course not! You didn't think that your own foolish ways could cause your one to leave, just as mine did! Dwalin, I will not idly watch while you push your one away! Dwarf-up and give the hobbit some space or so help me I will remove him from your claim! Do I make my self clear!” Thorin had snarled the last part. His king's voice was hard, but eyes held a defeated look.

Swallowing and looking away stubbornly, Dwalin nodded, “Aye.”

Thorin gave a small nod in return, before clasping the larger warrior in a hold of kinship. Thorin had lost his one because of his own greed and possessive behavior. He had lost her before the dragon had came, but the king refused to let his people suffer. “Let us go back to the others, they should have set up camp by now.”

* * *

 

And it was, when the two returned the company was already making their dinner, Gandalf was gone. Bofur was being cuddled by his kin, Bifur fussing over the hatted dwarf's head and Bombur was dividing his attention between dinner and his brother. Fili and Kili had returned with some fresh rabit meat.

Dwalin acted without thinking, his rage still running his thoughts, and sat down beside Bilbo and snarling at any who came close. His emotions leaving little room for him to think, but he now he understood that it was Bilbo's choice. Bilbo had every right to decide if he was worthy of the hobbit. He thought with a heart breaking sigh that he had scared off his one, just like his king had.

Balin left their log temporarily to go get some food for himself and the hobbit, knowing fully well that his brother wouldn't be eating. He and Gandalf exchanged knowing looks, something had to be done and soon. When he returned to his brother and his friend he wasn't surprised to see Bilbo look so nervous, the lad had been planing something for Dwalin for a long time it was obvious. He let out a small chuckle when Bilbo gave him a meek thank you, the lad really was distracted.

Just how distracted Biblo was had shown threw when the lad had been unable to pay attention to their discussion on maps. Balin had given a small laugh, secretly hoping that the lad was distracted by thoughts about a certain battle-ax wielding warrior.

Dwalin was having troubles coming to terms with letting go of his soul-mate when Bilbo abruptly stood up and asked for him to fallow. He fallowed his hobbit without question, fear and anxiety toiling in his gut. His hobbit was going to demand that he stay way, his one was going say that Bilbo didn't want him.

Just like with Thorin, Bilbo had lead Dwalin out of ear shot of the company, the hobbit shifting uncertainly on his feet. He glanced up at Dwalin, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. Finally he really read the look on Dwalin's face, the dwarf looked ready to throw himself onto his own ax.

Bilbo gave out a pitied sigh, this really wasn't fair to either of them. With a clearing of his throat Bilbo spoke with a quivering voice, “Master Dwalin, I, Bilbo Baggins, accept my making to be your soul-mate. I-I understand if you will not have me, I am but a hobbit, but I must speak my mind. I had only asked Bofur to show me how dwarrows kiss be-because I had wanted to do things properly by your kin.”

Bilbo's face was beyond flustered, his cheeks puffed out and his eye shimmered with tears. His fist shook at his side and his shoulders tense. He gulped when he heard the movement of Dwalin's shoes moving across the forest floor, he knew that the chances of Dwalin accepting him were little to none, but he had to try.

Bilbo gave a startled gasp when Dwalin's forehead rested against Bilbo's, the large hand covering his small right bicep. Bilbo lifted his gaze to meet the eyes of Dwalin, he felt his breath left him at the unguarded affection in the dwarf's eyes. He felt hope began to grow, and his confidence. Cracking a small smile he speaks again, this time much more evenly. “I take it you accept my proposal, even if you did attack one of my best friends. That's very bad manners you know.”

Dwalin didn't pull back when he let out a hardy laugh. He gave his own grin, full of wonder at what had just passed. Slowly he moved them so they were sitting, the hobbit rested in his lap. He rested his forehead on his one's shoulder, his breath evening out slowly. “Had I known, my illustrious gem, that hobbits had soul-mates as well I would have laid claim to ya' the moment you said ya're name.”

“Well you see, my large love, mine is but simply a name that is tattooed over my heart. It is a gift from my Tookish ancestors.” Bilbo chuckled at the affectionate names being exchanged between them. He slowly threaded his fingers threw Dwalin's thick beard, it was as soft as his own hair he noted pleasantly.

Dwalin spoke slowly, letting his past fearful emotions come to light. “I had thought that ya' wouldn't be bound to me, not like I was ya'. I thought ya' wouldn't have me, I thought ya' had someone else waiting for ya'. I thought ya' were with Bofur.” He growled out the last part, but the hatred was gone.

“I'll have you know that I didn't know that dwarrows had soul-mates either. I had thought that you didn't want my company.”

“Of course I wanted ya're company! Who wouldn't, ya're brave, loyal, cleaver, and the best cook to grace this world, my little emerald.” Dwalin understood the hobbit's hesitance, he had avoided his one in the beginning. Now though, he would shower his beloved in only affection and love, he would protect his little hobbit til his dieing breath.

“Just so that you know, I expect a proper courting. And a proper wedding, my relatives will have a heart attack when they see you, my bear.” Bilbo rubbed his nose up against Dwalin's. He had been suppressing his affection since Bofur had translated the name on his chest. He had felt a mind numbing fear like no other, he had feared that Dwalin, the one he had been made for would reject him. It was normal for a Took to try to win the affection of their soul-mate, it was how his mother won his father.

“'m no bear, my fallen star.”

Bilbo let out a small laugh, “You are a bear; big and strong, smart, even if you hide it, protective, and loving.”

Dwalin never felt so pleased to be compared to such a terrifying creature in his life. Yes, he was Bilbo's bear, Bilbo's alone. He even let out a disgruntled noise when Bilbo left his lap, saying something about needing to get something. Dwalin unconsciously reached for Bilbo as his one quickly sprinted to a close by tree, his physical from felt so empty without Bilbo near.

Bilbo soon returned, his arms full of flowers and a blinding smile on his face. The flowers were little white forget-me-nots. “If we are going to court the other we should do this right. I will not go around letting it be said that neither of us did this properly.”

Dwalin gave another hearty laugh, drawing his hobbit close. “Very well then, my strong heart, very well.”

By the time the two returned to the company they had came with interlocked fingers and a change of hair. Dwalin's beard had be re-braided and a small forget-me-not was tucked behind his ear, and Bilbo's hair was braided in the style of Dwalin's family and the rest of the flowers braided into his hair as decorations. The company welcomed them both back with cheer and congratulations.

“I hope ya' can forgive me Master Dwalin, I had only wanted to help.” Bofur, the poor miner and toy maker, still had the cuts and bruises on his face and body from the throttling that Dwalin gave him.

Dwalin gave Bilbo's hand a small squeeze, “Of course I forgive ya', ya're my love's best friend. I offer ya' mine, it was wrong of me to attack ya'.”

Bofur had waved the two of with a wink and a laugh, “Just ya' remember to take care of our dear burglar.”

When the company finally settled down Bilbo and Dwalin laid side by side on one of the remaining bed rolls. Dwalin with his larger frame surrounding his little mate. He nose rested firmly in the cove between Bilbo's neck and shoulder, inhaling the sweet scent of his other half.

“I love you.”

Dwalin tightened his arms around his little hobbit before answering back, “And I ya'.”

Dwalin didn't really worry about the dragon, he knew nothing could stand up to his little mate. If something tried it would meet the wrong end of his ax.

**Author's Note:**

> This wasn't supposed to be this long, it's longer then the first one! Dwalin, this is all your fault. I also hate it when dwarrows talk, they sound like weird pirates to me. Also yes, dwarrows is the correct spelling of the plural form of dwarf as decreed by Tolkien himself.  
> Dwalin is secretly a teddy bear.  
> This piece was inspired by The Bear Had Ponderous Claws by Hlessi, a glorious piece of work. It's supper fantastic and I need more of it!  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/665715


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